


Burning Heathrow Would Suffice

by notveryhandy



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Gen, Groundhog Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-16
Updated: 2020-04-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:02:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notveryhandy/pseuds/notveryhandy
Summary: Some say the world will end in fire, others in ice. Tegan doesn’t particularly care, as long as they get rid of Heathrow.Or: Groundhog Day, but with Heathrow. Title from “Fire and Ice”, by Robert Snow.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Burning Heathrow Would Suffice

“We could go to Paris,” the Doctor suggested. “I’ve been there, actually. Lovely city, shame about the - Tegan, are you listening?”

She frowned. “Sorry, were you saying something?”

“I was just saying that Paris - oh, never mind. I’ll let the Tardis choose a destination.”

Tegan ignored him, staring intently at an atlas. Pulling a sheet of paper out of her cap, she wrote down _New New New New York,_ the latest addition to her list of places that weren’t Heathrow.

Really, how many versions of York did people want to make? And what on Earth did they have against Amsterdam?

The future was _weird._

* * *

At some point the Doctor must have got bored, because they’d landed on an alien city with absolutely _nothing_ happening - it was widely regarded as the most ordinary city in the galaxy - and somehow the Doctor has started a political uprising. Or something.

Now, the two of them were being held at gunpoint (Nyssa and Adric were staying behind on the Tardis to finish their oh-so-important game of chess), and all she could think was _At least I won’t die in Heathrow._ Which, as far as last words went, wasn’t great. The Doctor was yelling something vaguely clever - probably a plan to get out - but the aliens didn’t seem convinced.

“Tegan,” he shouted, “I’m getting you out of here! Hold on, it might be a rough landing!”

Apparently he hadn’t considered that there was nothing to hold onto. Way to go, Doctor. “Okay, but where?”

“I don’t know, sorry!” he yelled, and used some sort of ingenuous, hastily constructed transmat to zap her off the planet.

The last thing she managed to say before the air was knocked out of her lungs was, “Well thanks for that!”

* * *

Heathrow. Heath-fucking-row. If she ever got out of this mess she was going to kill the Doctor and then maybe blast Heathrow to ashes. Knowing the Doctor, he’d probably turn up five days later with sad puppy eyes and insist that it was all an _accident, Tegan, it won’t happen again. I swear!_

Unfortunately, she could almost hear his voice. She looked around the bustling airport, and realised finding somewhere to stay would probably help. Or, you know, the emergency services. It suddenly registered to her that she was on Earth with nothing but ten pounds, a packet of Skittles, a Tardis key and a lait of places that weren’t Heathrow.

Oh, and some lipstick. Though how that would be helpful was escaping her at the moment. She was snapped out of her daze when some skinny idiot walked straight into her. Right. Middle of an airport. She walked out the way as quickly as possible, although she got an odd look from some of the passers-by.

“Would you stop looking at me like that?” she snapped at the chihuahua staring up at her from the floor. God, she’d forgotten how much she hated those things.

* * *

She made it through the rest of the day without punching anyone. This was only achieved by hiding in an out-of-order toilet for several hours, and buying a book to keep herself occupied (read: avoid punching anyone). Apparently this was Heathrow in the future: still a really shitty place, and an utter dump.

It occurred to her that maybe her future self was on Earth right now. Maybe she could find a telephone. Call them. It would certainly be better than staying in this dingy little stall until the Doctor found her.

Speaking of the Doctor, how would he find her? He had sent her here at random (fuck that transmat), so how would he find her?

Tegan hoped the Doctor didn’t keep tabs on his friends 24/7. It might be useful at times, but it would be pretty goddamn creepy.

Then again, even stalkers beat Heathrow.

* * *

She woke up at eight o’clock (in the morning) to find herself in the middle of Heathrow again. This felt oddly familiar. The book she’d been reading - well, trying not to rip to pieces - was gone, and right as she was wondering what had happened, the annoying man from yesterday walked straight into her.

Again. She received the same disapproving glances, saw the same people disappear into the crowd, even saw that same stupid chihuahua, silently mocking her.

Well, not silently. If anything, it was louder than her. Quite the achievement.

It only kicked in that something might be wrong when she looked at the date and saw it was Thursday 23rd January. Exactly the same date as yesterday.

What was this, Groundhog Day? But with shittier people and more Heathrow?

If it turned out her whole life was just a movie, there had better be a happily-ever-after, or she was suing reality.

* * *

She woke up yet again, this time managing to dodge the one man who thought not looking where he was going was a great idea. The chihuahua, however, hounded her down. _No matter how far you run, the chihuahuas will still find you,_ she thought bitterly.

Maybe it was time to find a way out. She managed to sneak out of the airport, somehow - thank god for the passport she always carried in her bra (long story). The security guards didn’t blink twice - they blinked five times. She counted.

Outside, Heathrow was a dump, not that it was any better on the inside. Finally out of the building, she realised she couldn’t just call the Doctor - there were no phones in sight. Besides, did the Tardis even _have_ a phone? Now might just be the time to find out.

Life disagreed, apparently, and she ended up in the middle of a field, still no closer to the Doctor.

Which might be good for him; she was fully prepared to whack him.

* * *

Three weeks in, and she was really getting tired of the snooty man who kept on walking into her. He reminded her of the Doctor, almost, except 20% snootier and 80% shorter. He also looked like the sort of person who would insult other people for exactly the same things he did - in short, an arrogant hypocrite.

What an asshole. Tegan always walked away from him before she “accidentally” started a fight, knowing if the Doctor _did_ find out he’d be mildly annoyed, and probably disappointed. As, for that matter, would Nyssa, which was frankly a far worse thought.

Adric would probably grin and then offer her a maths problem nobody this side of the universe had ever been able to solve. Surprise hit her - she was even missing the annoying teenager.

If this encounter had taught her anything (and she’d been trying her best _not_ to learn), it was that she was right: Heathrow was a dump and Thursdays were really fucking awful.

Take that, Doctor.

* * *

On the day the Doctor arrived, she was actually getting attached to the airport, and quietly wondered what the hell was wrong with her. When she heard the Tardis coming, she was simultaneously hit by a wave of relief and a surge of annoyance. There was nothing solid nearby to hit the Doctor with, aside from a hockey stick; she only wanted to thump him, not break his bones.

Although that might be quite satisfying. Anyway. She hurried towards the Tardis as quickly as she could, resolving to grab a pillow later. Projectile weapons weren’t really her style, but a vase might have nice dramatic effect.

The Doctor opened the doors of the Tardis, looking around briefly. When he caught sight of Tegan, he walked (or rather hopped) towards her excitedly, like a hyperactive rabbit.

What a charming description. “Sorry!” he yelped. “Unfortunate encounter with, um... some hot coals. anyway - how are you? Didn’t mean to dump you in Heathrow.”

“Yeah, I know. By the way, what’s with the Groundhog Day thing going on here?’ she asked, entering the Tardis for what felt like the first time in ages. In a way, it was.

“Oh, um, that was an accident.”

“So was everything else that happened here,” she pointed out.

“Yes, but a particularly annoying one. I’ll explain later, something to do with the transmat bring broken and, er... timey-wimey stuff.” 

She grinned despite herself. “It’s good to see you again.”

* * *

“Can we set Heathrow on fire?”

“I don’t think that’s a great idea,” Nyssa said, “the authorities might get a bit annoyed.”

“The _authorities,_ ” Tegan remarked, “didn’t spend five weeks or one day, depending on how you look at it, in Heathrow. I mean, Heathrow!”

Bloody Heathrow. The Doctor was grinning from his corner. He probably thought his book hid it (it didn’t). Nyssa, too, looked relieved - even Adric seemed to have missed her. Odd, because it couldn’t have been more than a few days (or so they said) for them.

She picked up a pillow, and threw it at the Doctor, who gaped. “What did I do?” he asked, as if he wasn’t to blame for five weeks in bloody _Heathrow._

“Can we get back to our game of chess?” Addiction asked. “I was about to win.”

The Doctor just gaped silently from his deck chair.


End file.
